what kind of monster are you?

I go by Butter. I'm an adult and I write and draw! This account is mostly for fanfic projects I'm working on and fandom discussion.

My ao3 is also ambustested. I multiship a lot and the stuff I write and draw varies in tone, lightheartedness and rating, so proceed with ⚠️caution⚠️!

I don't discuss nsfw or dm with minors, please respect that boundary. I'm also not interested in fandom wank or contentious discourse, especially about other fandom creators, but I do love media analysis and criticism!

I try to post a fic once a week but my schedule might change on occasion, usually I post on Twitter about it.

Fun fact about me: I am trying to get into competitive programming!

I write megastar and probably will get around writing tarnma. If you dont like exploring dark topics in fiction you should probably block me :)

Currently in the writing queue:

Editing stage:

Skystar sci-fi horror 10k

WIP Stage:

Skystar postwar 18k wip, likely 40% done

It was everyone after it qrt the og post and just dropping idw plot points that involved torture and loss of autonomy and being like oh this is blaring subtext, basic literacy, clearly this is an allegory for--

There was a post that was like, ohhhh tf canon is an allegory for SA and none of you get it. And it definitely peeved me a little bc loss of autonomy and sense of self isnt just a personal thing that happens when someone violates your boundaries, it can be a systemic thing.

So this trend that was like "oh haha this is all an allegory for rape" honestly peeved me a lot bc yeah, and no.

Like does the military industrial complex strip you of autonomy and identity and subject you to cruelty beyond necessity and public oversight? Yeah.

Is that loss of self and depersonalisation similar to what some SA victims feel? Yeah im sure there are parallels.

That doesnt mean every fucking plot point in idw is an allegory for sexual assault, its itching at a larger point that war itself is dehumanizing, invasive and destructive to every single participant and the insistence that its this like, isolated tragedy perpetrated by an individual instead of a systemic invasion where the dehumanization and dissociation is the point for constructing an army of massively unwell and ill people who will uncritically absorb and perpetrated propaganda in order to facilitate mass tragedy, and ultimately genocide--

For all we burn and exhaust ourselves to aspire to greatness, going home is also a reward. Like maybe the cost of an all out victory is too great a sacrifice so you can go home as you are and keep yourself intact. That we dont have to live by other peoples standards of greatness, that we dont have to go on some transformative journey to conquer it all, that we can always return to where we are known and loved, and that in itself is its own feat.

And while i get that is a core part of Natalie's character and why she ends up where she is, a hell of her own making where her refusal to listen and reflect on others perspectives and lived experiences even when theyre perilously close to her own, the screeds get old and dont really seem to add much. By the 4th or 5th time, I was like, we get it shes an unreliable narrator who always assumes the worst of others.

I would've maybe liked to have seen more of the other characters around her, or where she learned to be this negative and emotionally closed off, or more about her tender feelings for her children, since its one of the few humanizing aspects of her character, but oh well.

Originally i wrote a much more negative post about this book but I was not far from finishing it and was generally just frustrated social media pitched this book to me as something a bit more light hearted and tongue in cheek when in reality the book ended having some pretty fucking disturbing depictions of sexual assault that only get worse when contextualized by some plot reveals later on. So I held off to let some of that indignation disapate and now here I am trying to write this a second time.

The ending softened my view a bit, but its kind of a hard read because it really presents you this main character who is awful but at the same time I cant say the systemic misogyny she experiences is something she deserves. Still though her life is, undeniably, a life she built for herself.

I liked how the book demonstrates how holding onto values that dehumanize and other natural human experiences and emotions inevitably leads to dehumanizing yourself and confining yourself with those expectations. Natalie repeatedly refuses connection with other women and meets their attempts to bridge the emotional gap between them with contempt and derision, her own self esteem being seemingly built on the hollow vindication of seeing herself as above others.

Natalie also plays a hand in preventing her husband from exploring his interests and desires when theyre not traditionally masculine and eggs on his evolution into a bitter, resentful, manchild who struggles to make meaningful contributions or embrace his own emotions and desire for connectedness in a healthy way.

But I dont think its fair to say Natalie alone made him that way, as if he had no agency or ability to leave, or his father wasnt the one facilitating all of this. I think the tragedy of the book is that Natalie suffers most of all and by the time she is seeking escape she is nowhere near of sound body and mind to do so and there is no clemency afforded to her, only further contempt and punishment. It is actually quite easy to imagine Natalie wishing her cruel fate onto someone else and sadistically laughing as it plays out.

In the end the thing that traps Natalie most of all, id say, is that she just doesnt know what to do with herself outside of this constructed hierarchy she's confined to. She doesnt come across as a person that has the emotional capacity to live for herself and derive her own meaning because she has only ever found value in who she is not than rather who she is. So her defining trait is her cruelty and beneath that maybe a wistful, tender longing to go back to girlhood and start over when compassion and sincerity and self expression were not something to be mocked and derrided. Thats how I choose to look at her rare moments of love and emotional engagement with her daughters.

Like Ironhide fishing makes me kick my feet, skyfire watching the aurora borealis, skywarp attempting to fly into the hurricane at the same time autobots get into stormchasing. I'd love to make a drabble fic collection about it. its about culture and cross pollination and idk living in the moment.

And it always ends up with me asking myself, well what's your measure of success, is it popularity and engagement? And I'll go, no obviously not, I don't want to write entirely for other people because that would kill my passion for writing in the first place, because the core of why I write is because I want to see the stuff I write out in the world, precisely as I envision it.

And while I want people to like my work and read it and talk to me about it, its themes, their own ideas sparked by what they read, I'm not here to conform to anyone's expectations or definition of good except my own. I do listen to others and consider their perspectives and decide if they align with my own, but if they dont ultimately, I discard and move on.

And so I ask myself, well is it that you want the work to be good? And it's like, yeah I would hope so, but good is very subjective and even if I later end up disliking or being embarrassed about the fic, it was worth posting to begin with, even if I surpass its skill of execution. All I can do is attempt my best at any given time, and seek opportunities to grow if I find my best lackluster.

So usually I resolve that writing is about the journey, self expression, and connection to others, but it is not done for any of these things singularly.

Like it doesnt matter if I am ultimately not the best at writing x, y, or z because writing that is what I want to do. So even if my execution is bad, or my themes are shallow, or my ideas gets abstract and muddled, it's worth it to try, and keep trying, and iterate to gain a better understanding.

I sometimes write things that are really sincere and not well received and at first I get terribly embarrassed about it, but then I end up reading it again and again because I liked it. Probably one of my favorite fics I wrote is just a what if fic about if Megatron actually felt remorse for Starscream and I read it quite often just because I like it. I find it poetic and it flows well and it captures a lot of my tender feelings about all the characters in it.

Or I write something I find good in the moment and then get embarrassed later because to me, as I write more and more, I see all the spots where I could have improved execution of the fic, but people routinely tell me my fic means a lot to them and even if the fic makes me unhappy and uncomfortable (not in any serious or debilitating capacity mind you) I am glad others can still enjoy it.

In a weird way I like writing primarily because I like having a big body of work for people (myself included) to pick through and read. It makes me feel proud and accomplished (maybe even a little cool). I like being part of the fandom ecosystem and contributing my own thoughts and ideas and seeing others contribute theirs.

Being Mortal by Atul Gawande is an excellent book about end of life care and discussing mortality and what family members, especially parents, would want in the event that you have to take over medical decisions for them. It discusses how to have those kinds of discussions with your family before the critical moment.

It was supposed to have a movie but the whole project got scrapped because of Bill Murray recieving sexual misconduct allegations which shut down the entire production. Which is an absolute tragedy, as IMO Americans are extremely emotionally repressed and stunted about engaging with the possibility of death and this book directly explores and confronts the result of our societal death aversion.